This day, five years ago, I left home. I had ceased living with my family 4 years before that. But this, this was almost a renunciation. Left motherland, Ma, Pa, the smell of drenched earth in Monsoon, and everything that was familiar for a... I don't know what it is yet. I don't understand what I was running away from. I could have gotten great education, as good a job back there too. So what was I looking for?
This was written by M and given to me before I left. I have received many a love-letters. Some of them now only serve the purpose of reminding me my hostel's room number with their envelopes. I don't read them anyway. I can not empathize with the feelings of erstwhile me. This I read quite often. May be because M understood me better than most men I met. May be because I felt most hurt when she forsook us and this was the last bit that reminds me of her as I knew her.
No crayons and colors to wish you Happy Birthday
But words may play their vicarious part
So here I go drawing for you
With a little girl in pajamas, let us start.
Papa's pet, and Mamma's ladyship
A little doll sans dolls in her hand
Hiding in nooks and crevices of the ancient house
Breaking through into her own wonderland.
You look for her from dawn to dusk
And she's nowhere to be found.
For she's curled up with a perpetual book
Blind to the outside sound.
Now she's off on another venture
The Discovery of America, the big run
With hugs and kisses, her friends arm her
Bon Voyage they all shout in unison!!!
Wondering as an afterthought
When on the jet plane
Which book will be her companion
What wonderland will keep her sane.
I didn't open it till my birthday that year as I was instructed. And it turned out to be more beautiful a gift than I imagined. Much has been lost since then. Contact, innocence, hope, bits of our hearts and souls, a whole lot of tears. But, I have made my peace with it. I WILL see you someday. Hear this?
